


Week 2: Green/Jealousy

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 12,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Due to the potential for heavy themes/triggering content, please pay attention to every individual drabble's trigger warnings. If you feel uncomfortable reading an entry, please notify an admin. If you are not comfortable notifying an admin, you are not obligated to read triggering content.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 283
Kudos: 44
Collections: Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 3: Rare Pairs





	1. A Love Story in Three Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Love Story in Three Parts  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 445  
> Warnings: Infidelity
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

I.

Of all the dreams I could live to dream,  
No dream exists that is as lovely as you.

Of all the fruits I could live to taste,  
Yours is the only taste I swear I’ll never forget.

And yet,  
You twirl in his arms instead of mine.  
And sleep in his bed.

While I make do with scraps, the memory of a kiss, a lingering look.  
A unfulfilled hope for more.

I’m left to sustain myself on memories.  
Soft fingertips and freckles and a curtain of fire that surrounds us.

Prompting you, goading you, pleading with you to say my name.  
Knowing that for you, I served a purpose.  
He left you, and you didn’t want to feel alone.

But for me, you branded my very soul.  
Changed my alignment.  
And made it so nothing would ever be the same again.

Does he make you feel the way I did?  
Does he know the things we’ve done?

I know I’m not the hero, but nor am I the villain.  
And all I wish is to love and cherish you like the goddess that you are.

While all I can do is watch you from afar.  
And offer hollow smiles to the man standing next to you.

II.

If it was hard before, it has now become excruciating.  
You return to me, chasing something.  
Even while wearing his ring.

Do you burn the way I do?

The stolen moments are made all the sweeter by the fact that you cry my name.  
Each stroke a shoring of my ramparts that this… us… is real, and the other the illusion.

But the mornings tell a different story.  
Cold sheets and colder showers bear witness to my self-delusion.

Am I so tormented that I have not an ounce of self-respect left?  
Where you’re concerned, no.  
I lost that ability a long time ago.

But still, I hope you might find your way free.  
I wait for you to return to me.

Instead, the gentle swell of your belly and the ripening of your breasts tell a different tale.  
Perhaps I know your body better than you know yourself, and my eyes do not deceive.

I would even raise the bastard’s child, if only it meant you’d be by my side.

III.

Your heart breaks now, my sweet, but I promise it will not ache for long.  
I am here to ease your pain. To fill your empty places.

But there are things of which I cannot speak.  
Deeds that I will carry with me to the grave.

All for you, my love, all for you.  
Come, let me remind you of what we were and shall be.


	2. Ardently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Ardently  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 446  
> Warnings: References to sexual assault (non-con) and murder
> 
> AUTHOR: [TakingFlight48](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakingFlight48/pseuds/TakingFlight48)

He remembered a light ringing in his ears. Although he wasn't certain if it was from the magic he had just performed or from the lewd words Nott had spewed moments before he fell. 

Blaise wasn't sure what Ginny had expected him to do. He loved her. It didn't matter that he had found her in a ball, tears streaming down her bruised face, begging Blaise to leave her because she was sullied. 

He had tucked his anger away as Ginny vaguely explained what had happened. He didn’t press for details as he wiped the salty tears and olive green release off her face.

Blaise had known then he would find him. It wasn't until he helped scrub her skin clean and surrounded her in pillows—barely touching her—that his memory demanded permanent action.

He remembered how Nott’s moss green eyes would follow her as she and Potter grew closer. How his look had shifted from covetous to possessive delight when Potter had ended their relationship and left her behind in seventh year. Blaise's entire body had tensed as he remembered the way Theo would corner her alone.

He should have known then that his fucked up school mate would one day take her against her will, pin her down with dark magic and ruin her for every rejection she flung his way. 

His attention snapped outward as a guard pushed Blaise roughly into the rusty iron cage once again. The spokes pressed into his defiant brow, his furious shoulders, his rage-tightened arms, as he sought her out in the gallery. 

She had a white knuckled grip on the barrier between them, her determined gaze not dulled by the drawn face that held red, swollen eyes. Ginny’s emerald green suit was the only color he cared for in the sea of Wizengamot robes. 

But as a thick hand landed on Ginny’s shoulder and disheveled black hair and furrowed green eyes settled on her other side, Blaise felt a whip of that same jealousy lance through his spine. It was almost painful as his entire torso hitched forward, his indignant expression breaking for the first time into a grimace as the dulled spikes pushed into his lungs. 

"Blaise Zabini," an unimportant voice boomed into existence, "We uphold your plea of Not Guilty in the unfortunate death of Theodore Nott. However..." 

The voice droned on, but as his fiancées relieved sobs reached his ears, he felt his jealousy seep away with the last hold Theo had over them as she collapsed not into Potter’s arms, but Grangers.

He was free, and he would love her as ardently as he had before he had cause to kill his oldest friend.


	3. Arsenic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Arsenic  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 445  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

The ancient wallpaper curled at the edges, each strip of the arsenic hue still bright after a century of disregard. The rotting cottage slowly stole his sanity as he breathed in what was surely a lethal combination of arsenic, black mold, and asbestos. If the house didn’t kill him, the nicotine from the lit cigarette would surely do the job unless the glass of whisky in his hand forced his liver into revolt before the sun set.

His head thunked back against the cracked leather of the chair, tattered robes draped around him, a reminder of the year spent in the frigid cold of Azkaban. The muscles of his neck seized as the wind pushed through the cracked window. He’d long ago rid himself of the sequence of numbers and runes inked along his throat, rendering the tracking charm defunct, but the sight and sensitivity of the scar still disgusted him.

Without dementors, escape had been easy. Pay off a few guards. Behavior properly and earn compassionate leave to attend the funeral of your mother. Slice your neck and pray to the gods that you miss the artery. 

Voila—Freedom. 

Rings of smoke glowed neon as he exhaled, dark eyes watching as each widened and frayed before crashing against the wall in a splinter of arsenic coloured smoke. The fire to his right flickered, the crackle of moisture flaring as another log split, revealing a burst of fire the same colour as her hair. 

A smile curved over his lips and he watched until it faded, mesmerized. Muddled orange returned and he frowned before flicking the cigarette into the fire and swallowing the remainder of the whisky.

His head turned, eyes finding the witch in the bed, auburn hair spread out over lumpy pillows, pouted lips parted in potion-induced sleep. Her cheeks were flushed and as much as he wanted to kiss each perfect freckle, he wouldn’t do so while she slept. He checked his pocket watch.

_Five minutes._

The burst of light seared his retinas as the door to the cottage exploded, splinters of wood embedding into his skin. Pain from the impact was a fleeting thing, a listless experience through dulled nerves and a mind muddled by alcohol. 

_“Incarcerous!”_

Rope wound around his body, tightening against his joints as a contingent of Aurors flooded the room, securing the space. Blaise watched the scene with passive interest until the Head Auror, in starched robes of crimson, cradled the sleeping witch against his chest, pressing frantic kisses to her auburn hair and checking her pulse. 

Jealousy flared.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught with the object of his obsession. 

It wouldn’t be the last.


	4. Blame the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Blame the Game  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [granger_danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/pseuds/granger_danger)

“Better make it… persuasive,” Blaise whispers into Ginny’s ear. He forces his mouth into a wicked grin, as though he’s murmuring dark desires, not pitifully convincing her to kiss him like she means it.

Across the Great Hall, Draco regards them skeptically. The prat won’t pay up, though Blaise has won the bet. Says he doesn’t believe Blaise is really dating Ginny which—fine, he _isn’t,_ but they’ve had a very elaborate ploy on all week and it’s a bit irritating that Malfoy won’t swallow it.

“I didn’t realize it was _Malfoy_ you were trying to make jealous,” Ginny grumbles, but her lips stay in a flirtatious twist, hovering two inches from his mouth. Optics.

“It _isn't.”_ She doesn’t know of the wager, of course—would likely hex him if she did—and Draco doesn’t know about their mutually beneficial arrangement, though he suspects something. So thorough are Blaise's smoke and mirrors that neither Draco nor Ginny knows about his true motivations: about how, pressed somewhere between his sternum and his soul, his heart goes faulty whenever Ginny is within sight.

Blaise is distracted. By the potential loss of fifty Galleons. By Ginny’s lip gloss, shiny and fragrant. By the freckled cleavage peeping cheekily out of her uniform top, which she’s left, against regulations, open to the third button.

Ginny glances over her shoulder at Slytherin table. A forced casualness, but she seems slightly peeved, which is encouraging. Searching for the girl, no doubt, the girl she has no idea is fictitious, the non-existent girl Blaise has claimed he is trying to make jealous.

He still has his hands on her waist. When she turns back, she’s delightfully close. He has to tilt his neck down to look her in the eye, the unintentional result being that he also sees directly down her half-unbuttoned shirtfront.

And there, swaddled against her creamy flesh, is an enigmatic but emphatic swatch of emerald green satin.

_Salazar’s sack. _“Why is it green?” He doesn’t necessarily intend to say it aloud.__

__She will be his undoing._ _

__“You wanted convincing.” She twines her fingers around his neck._ _

__His throat is dry. “You think I’m that predictable?”_ _

__She eyes him pointedly and snorts. “Aren’t you?”_ _

__He attempts, futilely, to tamp down the want leaking from his face._ _

__“Oh give it up,” she says, like she’s won. Perhaps she has. Perhaps he’s underestimated her. Perhaps she has wagers and wiles and wants of her own. “You can’t play a player, Zabini.”_ _

__Ginny proceeds to kiss him so thoroughly that a whoop goes up in the hall. That they both get detention. That Malfoy gives a grudging nod._ _

__That, for one perfect, fleeting moment, even he believes that she means it._ _


	5. Bridal Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Bridal Party  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 425  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [HollyBrianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyBrianne/pseuds/HollyBrianne)

It’s an absolutely perfect day; not a cloud in the sky, the air comfortably warm and sweetly fragrant.

They just had to ruin it by throwing a wedding. Draco and Hermione, the happy sodding idiots.

"Would it kill you to smile?" Ginny Weasley practically growls while the cameras flash.

"It could," Blaise replies, scowling deeper. "Best not to risk it."

"Alright, if you're determined to mess up the photos, it might as well be with bat-bogeys." She reaches for her wand.

Self-preservation kicks in and Blaise turns up the corners of his lips into possibly the world's poorest excuse for a grin. "Happy?"

"Delighted," she spits.

* * *

Blaise steals his first real glance at Ginny when she stands for her toast. She's always been beautiful, and today she resembles a flower. Her form-fitting green dress is the stem and her bright hair is the bloom.

Except she's anything but delicate, she reminds him of that fact when it's his turn to toast. This time she threatens him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx if he doesn't say something charming. Is it charming to say that the real reason they're all gathered is for the free booze? If he plays it off as a joke, it is. Blaise follows that up with a cheesy one-liner he saw in a Valentine card. He figures he must have been charming enough since he still has full use of his limbs by the end of his speech.

"I don't get it," she says when they're on the dance floor for their obligatory best man/maid of honour dance. "If a great prat like Malfoy can fall in love with Hermione, I thought you'd be capable as well."

Blaise stops and accidentally catches Ginny's heel on his toe. "You want me to fall in love with Granger?"

She rolls her eyes. "I mean the blood purity issue. I assume that's why you're still being such a prick." Then she squints at him, reassessing. "Unless you already love her and this is jealousy?"

"Neither," Blaise sighs and continues their dance, leading her into a low dip. "It's nothing against them, it's marriage in general. Having my mother as an example doesn't instill much faith in the institution."

"What about love?" Ginny asks. "Do you believe in love?" She's very close, balanced only by his arms, and makes no effort to move. It's the first time all day that she doesn't look like she's about to hex him.

"I could," he says, fixing her with his first genuine smile of the day. "Shall we risk it?"


	6. Calendar Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Calendar Year  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [ScullyMurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyMurphy/pseuds/ScullyMurphy)

“I can’t believe he let them photograph him like that.” Hermione snorted as she held a glossy calendar up in front of her face. 

“Can’t you?” Ginny slurped her latte and took a bite of biscuit. 

“Well I guess it’s not totally out of character…” Hermione smoothed the calendar, _Quidditch Babes 2004_ , on the café table. “ _Damn_.” She shook her head and gazed down at Mr. March Blaise Zabini, who was reclining on a picnic blanket in a field of clover, clad in nothing but a pair of green silk boxers. “I’m almost jealous,” she laughed, running a finger over his face—eyes closed and smile wicked—then down his torso to his hand, which was softly flexing just next to his…

“I mean, I don’t usually condone these beefcake things,” she said severely, looking back up at Ginny with a frown. “But since it’s for charity...” 

“ _And_ it’s unisex!” 

“Well gender is a construct, but yes that too. And you look lovely in your shot.” Hermione flipped back to February. “Much more clothed than your wanton boyfriend, but still sexy. Your arms are incredible.” 

“Thanks.” Ginny grinned down at her pose. Her back was to the camera and she was glancing over the handle of her broom, which was hooked on her shoulders. Unlike Blaise, she was wearing her full kit, but with a racerback top. She squinted closer. “My arms _do_ look good.” 

“Harry’s is cute.” Hermione skipped to September, which featured a shirtless Harry Potter cavorting with a snitch and a hay bale. 

Ginny laughed at the picture. “So fucking wholesome. I bet Pansy snorted when she saw it.” 

“Oh my god, yes.” Hermione turned over to October, which was Cho Chang in a catwoman suit, doing a heartstopping corkscrew maneuver while standing on her broom. “Cho looks amazing.” 

“As always.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” Hermione took a sip of tea. 

Ginny shot a sly glance across the table. “Did you see December yet?” 

“No! Who’s left that I didn’t—” Hermione flipped to the end of the calendar and closed her mouth with a snap. A deep flush suffused her face. 

Ginny grinned into her coffee. “Who knew Malfoy would look so good in red,” she murmured, reaching out to turn the calendar sideways. “Blimey, I think he’s wearing less than Blaise. Although _wearing_ isn’t quite accurate. Looks like he’s starkers under that blanket. You can almost see the curve of his—” 

“That’s just fine!” Hermione slapped the calendar shut and shoved it across the table. “I hope it makes a lot of money for the kids.”

“You mean the food bank.” 

“Yeah. That.” 

Ginny nodded and suppressed a giggle. _It would all be for a good cause one way or another_.


	7. Clandestine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Clandestine  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [NotAMuggleMiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAMuggleMiss/profile)

“Show yourself! I know you’re there.”

Ginny froze in place and raised her wand in the darkness. If there was anything she had learned since the beginning of her sixth year, it was not to run unless she was absolutely certain she could get away.

Wandlight flooded her vision and she could just make out the face of Blaise Zabini in the sudden brightness.

He swore under his breath. Ginny held hers.

“What do you think you’re doing out after curfew? It’s not safe out here!” There was an angry edge to his concern and his eyes flashed as he lowered his wand.

“I’m just as dangerous as anyone else in these halls, Zabini,” she scoffed. Truthfully, she knew it had been foolish to come herself, but there hadn’t been a choice. 

“It’s Zabini again, is it? That’s how we’re going to play, Ginny?” He sighed. “I was expecting Longbottom tonight.” 

“That’s Weasley to you,” she retorted. Her face softened before she continued.”Neville’s out cold...He had detention with Crabbe earlier, barely made it back.”

Zabini cringed. 

“They still have no business sending you, couldn’t Finnegan have come? Or were you hoping to have a few moments with your precious Theo?” He asked, bitterness tainting his tone. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I care about seeing Theo? I don’t have time for your guessing games, just give me the potions before I get caught!” 

She watched as a panoply of emotions travelled across his face. For a man who held his feelings so closely guarded, he was shite at hiding them from her.

“I heard about last week. Goyle caught you snogging.”

“Circe’s tit, Blaise! Don’t tell me you picked now, of all times, to be jealous! You have no right! You haven’t spoken to me all year! I didn’t even know you were with Theo and Pansy in this.” She breathed deeply through her nose, trying to calm down. “It was our cover, it didn’t mean anything. Besides, he’s with Luna.” 

Blaise gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear. As his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, Ginny couldn’t help but relax into his touch. She wanted to be mad, but with the whole world upside down, the temptation to allow just one thing to feel right was too strong.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Blaise conceded. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Are any of us safe?” She muttered into his shirt, inhaling his scent. “I missed you.”

Dipping his face down to hers, he placed a lingering kiss on Ginny’s lips before handing her the shrunken package and slowly backing away.

“I missed you too, love.”


	8. Disintegration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Disintegration  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 440  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [iwasbotwp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasbotwp/pseuds/iwasbotwp)

In the magically locked room he'd created in the recesses of his mind for the creature, the scratching at the door and rattling of the knob rarely ceased. Day and night the Veela tried to break out.

Occasionally, it had gotten past the defenses Blaise had built around the room, forcing him to stuff it back, keep the secret, hide it away. In moments when he was tired and weak, which this year seemed far too many, the Veela began discovering more ways to test his limits.

He'd served detention with Professor Carrow tonight, after she'd determined his Cruciatus needed more practice. Trudging back down to the dungeons, his mind muddled with fatigue, he'd inadvertently run into _her_ —the one witch in the castle the Veela had begun to fixate on.

Blaise had tried to deny his attraction to Ginny Weasley, but it had only grown worse. 

That oaf Longbottom was at her side, same as nearly every time he saw her this term. And just as he’d done all the other times he caught sight of them together, he attempted to tamp down his jealousy.

Turning on his heel to head back the way he’d just come, ready to find an empty classroom in which he could vent his frustrations, he nearly missed that Longbottom had stepped in front of her, wand drawn, in a clearly protective stance. But his Veela saw.

_Mine. Mine to protect. Not his._

Helpless to stop the door in his mind from inching open, Blaise found himself again facing them, focusing on Longbottom’s other arm holding Weasley behind him, ready to take a spell for her.

“Mine,” Blaise breathed out, knowing on some level she would hear him.

He wasn’t surprised when she stepped out from behind Longbottom, although it hurt to see her wand drawn. Longbottom’s eyes slid to Weasley and a frown pulled down his lips. He merely adjusted his stance to stand with her against Blaise, instead of admonishing her, as Blaise expected. 

Glaring at Longbottom, Blaise was certain his eyes had gone entirely black. The Veela now stood in a disintegrating doorway.

“What are you playing at, Zabini?” Weasley asked. 

Unbidden images flooded his mind of all the ways he— _they_ —wanted to play with her. Behind his lips, he ran the tip of his tongue along one sharpened tooth.

“Playing?” he purred. “I’d love to.”

Weasley gasped at the insinuation; her parted lips looked like an invitation. 

Longbottom’s face turned red and his wand arm twitched.

_Get rid of him._

With a speed only a creature could produce, Blaise slid his wand from his sleeve, prepared to let his Veela walk free.


	9. Fire Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Fire Desire  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 448  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [In_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams)

For years, she had eluded him.

Blaise had made no secret of his desire for Ginny Weasley during his final year at Hogwarts and the years that had followed, his intrigue of the fiery redhead shifting and growing into something deep and intrinsic. 

She had drifted about with her head in a Potter-shaped cloud for too long. The sting of jealousy in his chest had never quite faded, the subtle roar that wanted her for his own, even though she and Potter were no longer together. The life of a Quidditch professional was not well attuned to the quiet family life Potter sought.

Now, Blaise had an offer of a different sort for Ginevra Weasley; her contract with the Holyhead Harpies would be up at the end of the season, and as a recruiter for Puddlemere United, he had been told in no uncertain terms to acquire her.

He intended to make her an offer she couldn't refuse.

The lines had grown so blurred between them that Blaise didn't even know what they had once looked like. He craved the discordant clash; the tease; the give and take that characterised the dark crevices of his mind when he thought of her.

As he slid the formal offer across his desk, her eyes flared when they met his; hints of green mixed with the blue in her irises, and _fire._ Her tongue dipped out to moisten her lips and his eyes followed the movement without shame. She rose, pacing the room as she skimmed the parchment.

"Is this your final offer, Blaise?" she asked, a purr, a mockery. "I expected more from you."

Lips curling with a wicked smirk, he circled the desk. "That's only the _official_ offer from the club." Warmth emanated from her lithe form and she shifted back towards him as though instinctive. "My personal offer, however..."

She froze, lips quirked and head turned halfway. "Yes?"

Blaise ghosted the tips of his fingers along her spine, grazing the back of her neck. " _My_ offer goes deeper than you can imagine."

Turning on the spot, Ginny peered up at him and dragged her lower lip between her teeth. "Is this how you recruit all your prospects?" Her breathless tone belied the flippancy of the words.

He shook his head slowly, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Just you."

"I'm flattered by Puddlemere's interest," she breathed, folding the offer in half, and then quarters, before tucking it into her pocket. "But I find I'm far more curious about the _unofficial_ offer."

The roar within his chest became that of the pulse behind his ears. He dropped his voice low. "I would be thrilled to discuss the details."


	10. Green and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Green and Gold  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Implied Infidelity
> 
> AUTHOR: [AlocYrrehc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlocYrrehc/pseuds/AlocYrrehc)

Green was not a good color on Blaise Zabini.

If Ariadne Nyx Zabini had taught her son anything (aside from how to kill seven husbands and get away with it), it was how to find the most flattering color for your skin tone. And for the only male Zabini, green wasn’t it.

A reluctant Slytherin, he’d hoped never to don green again after graduation, but Zabinis were expected to work until their twenty-fifth birthday before receiving their inheritance. Thus, he donned the green and gold quidditch kit of the Poolewe Bearded Goats, playing chaser alongside Ginny Weasley, for the winningest level two quidditch team in the UK.

He was pulling off his practice gear one September afternoon when a stunned looking Ginny walked into the locker room and announced, “I’ve been called up by the Harpies.”

The rest of the team erupted into cheers, patting her on the back and demanding she buy the first round, now that she’d be on a Premier League salary. Blaise, meanwhile, dressed silently waiting for the rest of the team to depart before turning to Ginny.

“Why take it? The Harpies haven’t won a game in five years and we’re three games away from the league championship.”

She looked at her feet, at her locker, anywhere but at him. “It has a lot to do with Harry. He saved the world when he was seventeen, Blaise. I want a chance to be known as someone other than just ‘Harry Potter’s wife,’ you know? And besides, you get your inheritance in three months. Do you really expect me to believe you’d stick around after that?”

“I’d stick around for you.” Only when he heard her gasp did Blaise realize he’d spoken aloud.

She took his hand in hers, and as much as he wanted to pull free of her grasp, he couldn’t bear to lose the connection. He stared at their intertwined fingers, marveling at the intricacies of each synapse taking note of where his skin ended and hers began, sending the feel of her racing toward his brain, which in turn told him to hold tighter, to never let go. He drew her closer, pressed his lips to hers, felt her melt into his arms, into his mouth.

“ _Blaise_ –”

The connection broke at the sound of her voice, pleading for understanding. “It’s fine, Ginevra.” He stepped back, drawing her hand to his lips. “Good luck.”

Blaise knew there was only one way to get what he wanted. For if Ariadne Nyx Zabini had taught her son anything (aside from how to find the most flattering color for your skin tone), it was how to kill seven husbands and get away with it.


	11. How It's Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: How It's Done  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 447  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [sophh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/pseuds/sophh)

The Lion's Den pub was poorly lit and hazy with smoke, but it was popular with university students due to the proliferation of cheap booze. There was a pool table in one corner, opposite the bar, and it was here that Ginny Weasley had made her home. When she wasn't studying or hanging out with friends, she was refining her game, determined to beat anyone who dared to challenge her. 

Her latest opponent was Blaise Zabini, the rich and arrogant son of a famous actress. Ginny was convinced that his attendance at university was less about furthering his education and more about furthering his _recreational activities,_ though, because she had never seen him with a textbook. 

Their game began with a series of barbs. Ginny found the older boy insufferable, and she had no qualms about insulting his vanity. Zabini responded in kind. 

"You're hardly worth a second look yourself, sweetheart," he sneered. 

Ginny couldn't help but notice that his taunts were far less frequent now that she was kicking his arse, though. 

She took a deep breath and steadied her left hand on the green felt of the pool table. The material was worn down in places, but that didn't bother her. She had played this table often enough to know how to work it to her advantage. 

The tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth as she lined her cue stick up with the eight ball, preparing to make the winning shot. Her opponent watched her with hooded eyes. 

"Get on with it, Weasley," he hissed. His lips curled up in a pleasureless smirk. "You're only prolonging the inevitable." 

Ginny rolled her eyes. 

"Bite me, Zabini," she shot back. "I want to savor this moment." 

Though she exuded confidence, Ginny was nervous. If she missed this shot, Zabini still had a chance to win, and she'd be damned if she let that happen. Guys like him needed to be taken down a peg. 

Time seemed to slow as she drew back her cue stick. The buzz of the crowd—none of whom seemed particularly interested in the game—faded to a hum. In one fluid movement, she slid the stick forward and tapped the eight ball, then held her breath as it rolled away. 

Moments later, Ginny let out a whoop as her last remaining ball dropped into the corner pocket. 

"And that's how you do it, Zabini," she crowed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

"Well played," he said stiffly, offering up his hand.

"God, you're so serious!" Ginny laughed, but shook the proffered hand anyway. "Tell you what, let me buy you a drink. You look like you could use one."


	12. If the Gods Allow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: If the Gods Allow  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: Major Character Death
> 
> AUTHOR: [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumpologist/pseuds/frumpologist)

Ginny’s boots pound the wet ground. She’s running to the beat of her heart—too fast; the pace can’t be maintained for long. Time is against her. How long does she have? Minutes? Judging by the rapid spellfire, the constant crackle of magic chasing her, barely that.

Still, she pushes on. Fast as she can, ignoring the wheeze of her lungs and the fire clawing at her sides.

She’s been given a gift: a chance. If she gets caught, it’ll all have been for naught.

Branches whip against her dirty skin. Welts swell along her arms and legs. The sting drives her forward. She latches onto it, lets it empower her. Dittany will help once she’s safe—if she can make it far enough. If not, well… then it won’t matter.

Pressing through the dense forest, Ginny keeps her eyes ahead. Heart careening like a hummingbird. She’s going to make it. If she can just move _faster_.

Chunks of bark explode from a tree. Pain lances across her cheek. Ginny curses, forcing her feet to move until the forest blurs around her. After a few heart pounding moments, she’s in a clearing and struggling to breathe.

They’re following closely. At any moment, she’ll be found and dragged back to the manor. To be tortured. Maybe killed.

There’s a loud thump somewhere behind her, then a gravelly _‘fuck’_.

Ginny spins, lifting her wand. She’s not good at defense, but she can cast a mean hex. Gritting her teeth, she tightens her fist and steadies her shaking legs.

Blaise steps from the shadows, cloaked in long black robes. He discards his gilded mask to the ground and pulls her to his chest.

“You don’t have long.”

Ginny tilts her chin, finding his dark eyes. “Come with me.”

“You know that’s not possible.”

She struggles out of his grip. “He’s going to kill you, and you’re just going to let him.”

“Better me than you,” Blaise grabs her sweaty hand. He kisses it, then pleads. “I can’t do this if I’m always worried for you. Apparate, and if the Gods allow, I’ll find you after.”

“Blaise, I—”

Their fingers slide apart.

“I know.”

Tears gather in her lashes as she memorizes him for just a moment longer. Wishing she could say the things she’s held back for fear they would get her killed. 

“I’ll find you, Red. Now _go_.”

Taking a half-step, Ginny concentrates on the last known safe house. Just as her magic _cracks_ , green light erupts in the clearing. Time stops.

Before the world goes black, she watches Blaise’s body arch and drop lifelessly to the ground.

She reappears in the safe house. Empty, silent, and hazed in the echo of _Avada Kedavra_.


	13. In Defense of Medusa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In Defense of Medusa  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [ravenslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/pseuds/ravenslight)

Beneath the hum of a tattoo gun, Ginny Weasley is reborn.

In the quiet years after the war, Ginny grew accustomed to the headlines, all of which referred to her in the tertiary: _Ron Weasley’s sister Ginny, Harry Potter’s beloved wife Ginny_.

The last until she dared to want more than he offered.

She could never be a carbon copy of Molly; she couldn’t give him the brood of children her brothers had, something Harry coveted with frightening intensity. Theirs was a bitter, public end; hardly a day passed without a reminder of his resentment.

But with the needles of the tattoo gun rhythmically puncturing her skin, pain arcing over her ribs like Fiendfyre, Ginny is both none and all of it—she is proud and uncompromising, shedding the constricting veneer of the girl she once was. 

“Why a gorgon?” Zabini doesn’t look up, but she doesn’t expect him to. They’re familiar with one another in the same way strangers who pass each other on the street in observance of their banal routines are. It’s been years, but he’s not changed, just as silent and assessing as he was in Hogwarts’ halls.

In his palm, he cradles a rag soaked through with Murtlap Essence, and each pass of it over her ribs soothes her screaming flesh before the bite of the needle reawakens it.

“Not _just_ a gorgon,” she manages through clenched teeth. A frisson of pride chases up her spine that her voice betrays no emotion. It’s a hard-won commodity, her placidity, borne of necessity. “Medusa.”

Finally, Zabini meets her gaze. She doesn’t expect him to _see_ her, his eyes pinning her down like a specimen to a board. “Some legends say she was a monster.”

“And others that she was a victim of circumstance forced into a false ternary: a nurturing mother, a spotless virgin, or an insatiable whore,” Ginny fires back. “An impossible choice mandated by a jealous man thought above reproach.”

She’s no longer speaking about Medusa. 

“My mother too.” He switches the machine off, turning his attention to its inky tip. Steady hands wipe it clean. “Until she wasn’t.” 

He taps a tattoo on his forearm. A spider, all black save a piercing red hourglass inked into its ventral surface. “They fear what they can’t control.”

Lost for words, she focuses on the careful dexterity of his fingers as he dips the tattoo gun’s nub into a well of iridescent green ink.

“Monsters mediated through the lens of patriarchal myth,” Zabini murmurs, settling back onto his stool, “are simply those which men envy most. Don’t let them destroy you, too.” 

The tattoo gun whirrs as he begins to fill in the writhing snakes of Medusa’s hair.


	14. Incongruent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Incongruent  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [kifiyathewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kifiyathewriter/pseuds/kifiyathewriter)

“That shade of green is a terrible look for you, Red.”

“Piss. Off. Malfoy.” Ginny said, taking a too long sip from her champagne flute, now regretfully empty. She made to reach for another, but before she could, Malfoy tsked, taking possession of the two remaining glasses. Caging the growl attempting to escape her mouth, Ginny’s nostrils flared, and her fist clenched as anger continued its slow and steady drip into her bloodstream. “How is it that I’ve been granted the good fortune to be accosted by your presence tonight?” The bite of her sarcasm might’ve injured a more fragile temperament; however, the pale and pointy blonde only gifted her with a smirk, one that didn’t quite ring true. 

“Ahh, there are the manners your mother would be proud of—“

“If your intent is to antagonize me for the duration of the night, ferret, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Could you possibly, oh I don’t know, pick another dark corner to linger?” She gestured towards the rest of the dimly lit ballroom. 

“What would be the fun in that?” Ginny folded her arms across her chest trying to temp down some of the unwanted feelings and watched as a fissure appeared in the plaster of his smirking countenance. Though, he surprised her by holding out one of the glasses. She narrowed her eyes, accepting the proffered libation, but the git’s next words drew her once more to the steep cliff side of her boiling rage. “Surely, you’d prefer having another to commiserate with, seeing just how bloody ridiculous this situation is—“

“I have no idea what the actual fuck you’re on about, Malfoy.” 

“Come now; I know you’re smarter than to think I’d actually believe such a blatant attempt at deflection.” She mentally reflected on the waves of despair beginning to overtake her roiling emotions. Their collision created a fog that clouded her senses, and her reflexes drove her to down the bubbling contents of the crystal flute. “You cannot tell me that being here, having to witness this display, isn’t supremely fucked up.”

“I KNOW THAT, DRACO!” The man’s brow arched in what would’ve been a comedic expression if not for the current level of tension emanating between the not quite friends. Ginny scanned the room surreptitiously, ascertaining that unwanted ears had failed to be alerted to their conversation, before she continued, subdued. “I know.” Her gaze landed on Blaise and Hermione dancing in the middle of the room. Their eyes filled with love for each other. 

“Not a fun feeling, watching your best friend in the arms of the one you love? Perhaps we were all just incompatible...incongruent, hmm?” Ginny met his eyes, reflecting her own inner turmoil. 

“Perhaps.”


	15. It's Always Been You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: It's Always Been You  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 447  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [phoenixofslyterhin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixofslytherin/pseuds/phoenixofslytherin)

Ginny Weasley loves to watch the sun rise from her broom. Clear mornings see her chasing the dawn, streaking like lightning through the painted sky with her hair dancing like tendrils of fire in the wind. 

Blaise Zabini loves to watch her fly. Her love of the early mornings draws him willingly from his bed, and her vitality helps him survive the rest of the day. 

She taunts him as they play Quidditch on opposing teams. She nips and twirls, flying rings around him and stealing his heart as wholly as she steals the snitch from the air. 

She’s a vixen, and his desire for her is threatening to destroy him. He wants to feel her vibrant hair wrapped around his fingers. He wants to tug her head back and plunder her mouth with a bruising kiss. He wants to feel her soft skin against his own. He wants to destroy every other boy who happens to look her way.

Tonight he’s sure that she’s taunting him on purpose. Standing by the lake with Harry, her laugh cuts through to his soul. Potter narrows his eyes at Blaise’s approach, eyes that perfectly match the green of Ginny’s top, the top that Blaise had hoped she’d worn for him. Green. Slytherin green. Potter’s eyes green. Potter’s lips brush her neck as he whispers in her ear. 

Blaise’s fingers twitch on his wand. He wants to curse Potter into dust. Instead, he watches as Ginny smiles, turning to Blaise with a wink as Harry speaks in her ear again. 

Blaise huffs and turns too, but he’s close enough for her to catch his hand and hold him in place. “Jealous Zabini?”

He glares at her. He’s never asked to feel this way, he never asked to fall in love with her, and he’s certainly never asked to be consumed by ferocious jealousy the moment she touches another man. It feels like Fiendfyre tearing through his wounded soul, and Blaise very much prefers not to burn. 

His eyes meet hers, chocolate brown piercing into brilliant blue. “Yes.”

“So it’s true?” she smiles, “you want me?”

“Yes.” She steps closer to Blaise as Harry moves away. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done years ago.” She looks ethereal, almost fae-like in the dappled green light as she pulls him close and crushes her lips to his. He kisses her back, and his world falters on its axis. 

His jealousy morphs into scorching desire as their lips brush again. One desperate kiss, then two, and he’s lost beyond all hope as she enchants him yet again with a whisper. “Harry’s just a friend. I’m all yours if you want me.”


	16. Mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Mothers  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 448  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [TeacupNiffler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupniffler/pseuds/teacupniffler)

His trousers were too short and too tight, hanging far above his ankles. Blaise pulled his Hogwarts cloak tighter around him, the fabric only just covering the buttons of his shirt that tried to accommodate his growth over the summer.

“We'll have them tailored next week in Hogsmeade, darling. You'll need new robes for the wedding!” His house-elf had assured him. 

He had heard enough about the wedding. Every mention brought a sick feeling to his stomach, an ache that drummed through him. Gustave, his mother's latest fiancé, even dared to suggest to Blaise that he change his family name after the wedding.

Blaise scoffed, glaring ahead in the small train compartment where he hid. He may only be twelve, but even he knew the kind of president it would set. If he changed his name to match this suitor, the next would expect the same. No, Blaise was always prepared for the inevitable end of the marriages. For the preparations of the following.

Blaise had dismissed his house-elf the moment they had arrived at Kings Cross, the small elf fretting about the long list of wedding preparations to be done. They had arrived hours early, Blaise hoping to avoid questions from his peers about his mother's location.

The train station bustled outside the window, families milled and cooing loudly. A flash of something danced passed Blaise's window.

"I'm finally going to Hogwarts!" The bright voice sang loudly.

"Ginevra, stop that at once!"

Blaise leaned against the window, curious as he saw a girl stop and turn. Her face flashed up at him, her smile beaming as she looked around in excitement. She met his stare briefly, her bright green eyes electric as she smiled up at him.

Blaise scowled, pulling back as her mother came into view.

"Don’t run, Ginny!” The witch panted, “You’ll get lost.”

The girl, Ginny, rolled her eyes and laughed. Blaise expected her to shy away from her mother, embarrassed like most other children as their parents doated on them.

Instead, the green-eyed girl threw her arms around her mother,

“I’ll be fine. Love you, Mum.”

The older witch softened, embracing her daughter fiercely.

“I love you too, Ginny.”

Blaise looked down at them, at the way the mother held the young girl. Something burned in him, an ache in his heart that Blaise tried not to acknowledge he longed for. Something he knew he would never have with his own mother.

The pair broke apart and the girl looked up at him again. She gave him a small wave.

Blaise looked away, scowling and embarrassed at his jealousy.

He didn’t know this Ginny, but in that moment, Blaise decided he hated her.


	17. No One Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: No One Knows  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 441  
> Warnings: Infertility
> 
> AUTHOR: [Tridogmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridogmom/pseuds/Tridogmom)

Ginny leaned her head on Blaise’s shoulder as talk around the Weasley family dinner table shifted from rehashing the game to what each family had planned for the upcoming weeks. The Weasley’s had gathered to celebrate Ginny’s Quidditch team winning the league cup the night before. He had never been more proud of his wife, the love of his life.

“What about you two, dears?” Molly asked. 

“Red and I are going to Tanzania for the next two weeks,” Blaise said. “I found a private resort so we can celebrate her win and have some privacy from the media.”

“I’m so jealous,” Hermione said, wrangling Roxie and Hugo as they ran past, trying to hit each other, again. 

“Me too,” Fleur said, rubbing her swollen belly. 

“It would be nice to be able to not worry about children and be able to just go on vacation,” Angelina added. “No kids, and you get to play Quidditch. Lucky witch.”

He squeezed his wife’s hand under the table as the rest of her siblings joined in the conversation about how they missed the days of easy travel, pre-baby bodies, or going out drinking. Each one of them mentioned how much they missed their childfree lives no matter how much they loved their offspring.

Blaise pulled Ginny closer and placed a kiss to her forehead. 

No one at the table knew that they’d been trying to get pregnant for the last five years. They hadn’t told anyone that St Mungos had been unable to help them conceive, even with the strongest of fertility potions. 

Only the two of them knew they were going to Tanzania, not for vacation, but to visit a remote tribe that used indigenous herbs that were illegal in Britain but might help them get pregnant. 

Her family didn’t know that after each pregnancy announcement at Sunday roast, Ginny hugged them, genuinely happy she would be an auntie again, but then cried in his arms for hours once they returned home.

They wanted the life he and Ginny led but not one of her siblings knew that Ginny would give up everything—her career, her trim waist, their fortune—just to have a child of her own. And so would he. 

His in-laws might think they had it made, but none of them knew how jealous he was of each of them. How we wished his wife had the stretch marks the women complained about or that she begged him for Indian food at midnight because of a craving. 

Only he and Ginny knew that every failed attempt, negative test, and month he held his strong bride as she sobbed broke his heart.


	18. O Beware My Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: O Beware My Lord  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

Best Quidditch Commentator.

_Bollocks!_

Blaise had spent enough time in those rickety booths to know for a fact that Ginny Potter, née Weasley, was only hired because she had a pretty face and famous husband.

Unlike the redhead who was making her way to accept an award that should have been his, Blaise had put hard work into earning his commentating position. Hours listening to recordings of old matches, days spent analyzing teams plays so he could anticipate what might happen next, because in this line of work having a split-second advantage on making a call was the reason your contract kept getting renewed.

Blaise had spent _years_ —blissful, and extraordinary years, basking in the glow of being the best in the business. Over a dozen of those gold-plated megaphone awards sat on his shelf in his study, his name etched into the base. He had, without a shred of doubt, made a name for himself in the world of Quidditch commentating, and was ruling the proverbial Hippogriff roost.

Then she showed up.

The she-weasel decided to retire from the field so she could pop out a couple gremlins with Potter and started encroaching on his turf.

It had been bad enough that he’d shared a castle with the red-headed eyesore for six bloody years, but then she started showing up in his booth!

At first it was just a couple matches. Nothing he wasn’t capable of handling in small doses. Then she was hired— _full time_ , as in always beside him in the bloody booth, her shrill chatter ruining his calls, and gardenia scented perfume making it impossible to concentrate.

So, to say his dream job had almost turned into a nightmare was an understatement. But a single thought had kept his spirits up during those harrowing times.

Awards.

That award would be his, once more, and the torture of dealing with Weasley would be worth it.

Except, instead of him thanking everyone for voting him the best in the business once _again_ , he was watching his arch-nemesis slink on stage in an emerald slip of a dress that seemed more like a second skin than apparel.

Blaise reached for his Fire Whisky and wasted no time in draining its contents to hide his scowl as the crowd around him applauded.

He could do this. He just had to make it through the next half-an-hour for this shit show to wrap up and then he wouldn’t have to see her for the next three glorious months.

And during that time, Blaise intended to spend every moment planning for next year’s season. Because he would be damned if he lost to a Weasley for two years in a row.


	19. Secret Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Secret Mission  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [persephone_stone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_stone/pseuds/persephone_stone)

Music filled the palace gardens, spilling out of the ballroom doors that had been thrown wide into the cool night air. Inside, lords and ladies of French wizarding nobility whirled and spun in a kaleidoscope of colors and fabrics: red silk, orange tulle, blue velvet, purple chiffon.

Ginny strolled across the terrace, taking extra care to let her hips sway beneath her own gown of emerald satin.

Flames from the torchieres hissed and spit in the damp air, but Ginny’s nerves were steady as she descended the stairs and made her way toward the garden maze, luring her prey. Her lips curled into a smile when she heard his footsteps behind her. 

As a member of the DMLE’s Secret Intelligence Force, she’d trained for this. Spent months studying her target, planning her mission, setting her trap. Now the time had finally come to spring that trap: to arrest Antoine Nicolay, the wizard responsible for stealing Ministry secrets and selling them to an underground network of anti-Ministry radicals. His actions had led to dozens of attacks and hundreds of deaths, and he’d evaded capture for over a year.

His reign of terror ended tonight.

“Ginevra.” 

The voice came not from the man behind her, but from her partner, his deep baritone echoing through the tiny speaker in her ear. 

“Not now, Blaise,” she hissed.

“I sincerely hope you’re not heading anywhere alone with that bastard.”

“Jealous?”

No answer came. _Good,_ she thought. She couldn’t afford any distractions. 

She turned a corner of the maze and stopped, leaning against the tall hedge and fanning herself dramatically.

“Ah, mon chère." Nicolay’s voice, excited by the prospect of catching her alone, made Ginny’s stomach twist in disgust.

“Oh, no,” she giggled, deliberately stumbling as he approached. “I think I had too much to drink.”

He caught her waist, pulling her against him. “Don’t worry,” he murmured into her temple. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Swallowing the bile that burned the back of her throat, Ginny slid one hand into his greasy hair, re-directing his attention to her neckline. Her other hand dropped to the slit of her dress, fingers gripping the wand hidden in her thigh holster.

Seconds before Nicolay’s lips could connect with the skin of her throat, her wand connected with his.

 _“Immobulus,_ ” she spat, stepping back when she felt his body still.

A twig snapped behind her and she spun, wand raised. 

Blaise stood there, hands raised, eyes roving over her in obvious concern. “Alright, Gin?”

She dropped her wand, nodding once.

He strode toward her, aiming a savage kick at Nicolay before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Nice work, partner.”

She smiled. “Thank you, my love.”


	20. Slytherin Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Slytherin Tactics  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [DramioneDreaming]()

“Please tell me you did not buy a six-month-old a pet snake,” Ginny groaned, hastily closing the lid of the cardboard box she had taken from Blaise’s hands. She had known the moment he stepped through the floo that his radiant smile could only signal bad news, but had naively hoped he was going to tell her that his mother was coming for tea or some other more usual horror.

“That’s no way to greet the newest little Zabini,” Blaise chuckled, reclaiming the box.

“I’m fairly sure ‘little Zabini’ and your apparent inability to cast working contraceptive charms are the reason we ended up as parents in the first place,” Ginny grumbled in faux annoyance.

“And you wouldn’t change it for the world, so stop complaining, Red.” Blaise cut in, opening the box and withdrawing a small and admittedly rather cute looking green snake.

“This is the most underhand tactic you have used to date to try and force poor Luca into Slytherin house. I don’t know why you are so determined to make your son miserable.”

“Please, and the fact that the first gift he was presented with was a stuffed lion wasn’t your attempt to sway him to Gryffindor.”

Ginny rolled her eyes in response to Blaise’s usual complaining about their son’s favourite snuggle partner.

“So you thought that because he isn’t interested in the stuffed serpent you bought him in retaliation, you would foist venomous pets on someone whose first instinct is to put everything in his mouth?”

“Salazar will remain safely in his tank unless supervised until Luca is old enough,” Blaise affirmed, gently stroking the curious little snake as it wound its way between his fingers. “Besides, North American Green Snakes are non-venomous and famously docile.”

Sighing in resignation, Ginny reached out to boop the newest family member on its tiny nose, laughing when it gave a small hiss of annoyance in response.

“Fine. But if he’s having a bloody snake for a pet, the least you could do is turn his nursery back to its normal colour. All that green is giving me migraines.”

“I repeat that I only turned it green to show Luca’s support for his mother’s quidditch career. The Holyhead Harpies wear green last I checked.” Blaise flashed his trademark dazzling smile before placing a tender kiss on his wife’s forehead.

“Still not buying it,” Ginny asserted, heading towards the sounds of a stirring baby. “And Weasley’s have been Gryffindors for generations.”

“Good job he’s a Zabini then.” Blaise chuckled, returning the tiny snake to his cardboard home and mentally adding one point to the Slytherin side of their scoreboard. Only 10-and-a-bit years to go before his wife ate her words.


	21. Snitches and Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Snitches and Quidditch  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [bionically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bionically/pseuds/bionically)

When she sees Blaise Zabini fly past in a flash of green and silver, his teeth white against the dark bronze of his skin, she's jolted by memories of the past, the multiple times this week when his shoulder purposefully clipped hers in the hallways; an oblique reminder of things that used to be.

It doesn’t matter; _this_ is all that’s between them now.

Ginny snaps her attention away and spots her goal: a frantically fluttering Snitch, the wintry sun winking off its gleaming wings. She spins in a wide arc; Zabini pulls up to avoid running into her bristles. They crash into the side of the pillar in a tight turn, their leathers screeching against the wall. 

As they soar upwards, Zabini’s gloved hand reaches out and grabs her broomstick. They're locked together in flight by his grip. “Let go!” she shouts, incredulous at his tactics.

“Shall I, Weasley?” There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s out of place for their usual acerbic exchanges. “Should I let you go, so that you can chase after the Snitch? Or should I say, _Potter?”_

She suspects he’s not talking about Quidditch anymore. 

She’s about to bang her fist down on his knuckles when he suddenly releases her broom handle and she zooms vertically past him. The Snitch is within reach now. She stretches high her fingers, thighs precariously clasped around the front end of her broom. She’s almost got it, almost—

A body slams into her. She shrieks, her legs losing their hold momentarily. As soon as her palm leaves the broomstick, it goes slack and drops under her with terrifying swiftness. 

She’s going to fall, she’s falling, she’s _never_ fallen from her broom before and this is all his fault—

Her eyes are wide; her uniform flaps uselessly around her as she plummets, grappling around for something, anything to stop the pull of gravity. There’s nothing up here but the clear, unforgiving sun and sky. 

A hand catches the back of her shirt; her arms flail as she watches her riderless broom flip top over bottom, heading for the ground. She’s arrested in motion only by Zabini’s grip. She both hates him and hopes he doesn’t let go.

“You’ve lost your own chance at the Snitch!” she shouts up at him. 

They’re descending slowly as whistles sound. Below the audience is on its feet, in an uproar at this latest dirty gameplay between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors.

"It was never about catching the Snitch.” There’s a smudge on Zabini’s cheek, the only thing that’s less than pristine about him. “That's not what _our_ game is about.” 

The way her pulse is jackhammering isn't due entirely to her death-defying fall.


	22. Spirulina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Spirulina  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Seakays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seakays/pseuds/Seakays)

Blaise Zabini didn’t _do_ jealousy. He never saw the point in coveting something another wizard possessed. He was a rich man, and what he didn’t already have, he simply purchased. 

Everything, and everyone, had its price.

Until they didn’t. 

Which was why he was standing in Draco’s foyer at dusk, staring at his friend in disbelief. “What the ever-loving fuck do you mean I can’t have any? Malfoy, I swear to Merlin, I only want a bite … a lick …a measly little taste.”

“You’re too late. Ginny’s already sent Ollie ahead with strict instructions on what to do if you showed up on our doorstep.”

As Blaise collapsed onto the antique chaise by the front closet, he heard Hermione continue, “You know she’s only doing this because she loves you.” 

Blaise looked abashed for a moment. “I know _that_ , Granger. But I am _starving_. Fading away to a shell of my former self. _Feel_ me.” Throwing his wrist out for Hermione to hold, he pouted. “I am sure I have a fever, low blood pressure and my bowels, don’t even get me started on my bowels.”

As Draco and Hermione rolled their eyes at their tragically dramatic friend, everyone heard the distinct “pop” that was the apparition signature of Ginny Zabini.

Blaise’s eyes blew wide, he threw his hands in supplication towards Draco, and shouted, “HIDE ME, MALFOY. IT’S WRETCHED.” 

“Oh, for the love of Merlin, Blaise. It’s a fucking smoothie.” Ginny stood at the entranceway, hip cocked, holding a large glass filled with neon green liquid. 

Nodding her head in her husband’s direction, she explained. “Blaise agreed to do a cleanse before our trip to Santorini. But that drama llama refuses to even _try_ the green smoothie. Claims he needs meat. Which is why he is here, jealously drooling all over your steaks. Certainly won’t to be my fault when he shows up to the beach with a dad bod.”

Blaise scowled at his beautiful wife. “A dad bod! You wound me, Ginny-bear. I am a Zabini, and we do not produce _rolls_.” 

Turning to Hermione, he tried to explain. “Do you even _know_ what is in that thing?” Not stopping to let Hermione answer, he continued his rant, “Kale, unsweetened almond milk and Salazar damned spirulina. She wants me to drink lake bacteria. She is a cruel woman, my wife, a terrible, cruel woman.”

As Hermione dissolved into fits of laughter, Ginny gathered her husband in her arms, and whispered gently in his ear. 

Kissing her softly on the lips, with the look of a man both utterly besotted and completely whipped, Blaise sighed and downed the green smoothie.

“Only for you, Ginny-bear. Only for you.”


	23. The Eighth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Eighth  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Misdemeanor1331](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misdemeanor1331/pseuds/Misdemeanor1331)

Blaise is a dark arrow skimming over white floors. He flies through a forest of green, cutting through pine boughs, olive groves, and shamrock fields until, at last, a small, lime pillar refuses to fall. 

_Granger_. 

Her hand presses against his chest. Blaise admires her nerve, but she won’t stop him. 

Nothing will. 

“Blaise, Ginny’s alive.” 

He tries to push Granger aside, but the Healer has set her feet, becoming the immovable object Draco whinges about with equal parts frustration and admiration. 

“Wait, listen to me. She’s weak, dehydrated. We don’t know the cause, and the Aurors still need to—”

“ _Move_.” 

“You can’t—”

His hand snaps to her wrist; her brown eyes narrow in pain. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” But he will if she makes him. 

Granger measures his resolve against her own, then nods. Blaise unhands her wrist. She presses her wand to the door’s access panel; it swings open. 

“I won’t be able to stall the Aurors for long,” she says, looking up at him. “Be quick and don’t upset her.” 

Blaise isn’t a Healer. He doesn’t understand the equipment that surrounds Ginny’s bed, the monitors that hum and ping with periodic frequency. A fluid bag hangs suspended above her. He follows the transparent line to her arm, where it hooks into a vein, dark blue against her milk-pale skin. 

His stomach turns—he’s not built for this—and then Ginny’s head lolls toward him. Her eyes open a crack. 

“Blaise?” 

He settles into a bedside chair and takes her hand. “I’m here,” he says, forcing a smile. 

“How’d you get past Hermione?” 

“Charm.” His heart’s not in it, but Ginny’s wheezing laugh gives him hope. “I don’t have long.” He leans forward. “What happened?” 

“Owl post arrived.” 

He sighs and squeezes her fingers. “Ginny… We’ve been over this.” 

“It was addressed to me.” 

“Was there a return address?” 

Tears well in her eyes, electric blue under the hospital’s sun-bright lights. “I shouldn’t be afraid to open my mail,” she says. “I shouldn’t be afraid to mount my broom, or use the Floo, or visit Diagon Alley alone. Blaise, I can’t…” 

He wipes her tears with gentle fingers. He knows it’s over. Their chronic argument has been decided—finally, permanently—in Ginny’s favor. 

“You were right,” he says. “I just couldn’t see it.” 

“She’ll always come between us,” Ginny says with a quiet sob. “We can never be together, not until she’s gone. Blaise, your mother…”

Lucrezia Zabini: seven times a widow, seven times a poisoner. 

Eight, now. 

“I know,” Blaise says. “I’ll take care of it.” 

Ginny’s eyes close, her pale lips set in a thin, grim line. “I know you will.” 

After all, Blaise is his mother’s son.


	24. The Feint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Feint  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [WhatSoMalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatSoMalfoy/pseuds/WhatSoMalfoy)

“Oi, Red! Weaslette! Ginny, yes— finally!” Blaise huffed as he caught up to the feisty redhead. Apparently, she only answered to her actual name. How very Gryffindor of her.

“What can I help you with, Zabini?” Ginny asked as he caught up to her. 

“You kicked my arse out there. Have to say I didn’t care for it,” Blaise admitted with a shrug, burying his jealousy deep within. When he looked down at Ginny’s face, he let the Slytherin charm out of its basket— a casual quirk of an eyebrow, a predatory smile and laughter in his eyes. If it had its intended effect or not, he wasn’t sure. The Gryffindor barely acknowledged him as she continued her brisk pace across the grass.

“How’d you do it, then?” Blaise prompted, shouldering his broom and flexing his arms around it. 

Ginny laughed then. It came in a burst, escaping her lungs and lighting her fine features with a fiery blaze. She glowed with it, and Blaise could feel his better nature warring with the coiled, possessive snake within. The side of him he didn’t let anyone see— the side filled with insecurities and self-doubt. The side that could haunt your daydreams and poison your morning tea with its venom. This little witch was calling to his darker nature, but he wouldn’t let her win— not so easily, anyway. 

“The Wronski Feint?” She clarified, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Blaise wanted to catch it— weave it between his fingers, to watch as it slid like silk over his skin. How had she bewitched him so with just a little laugh? He wanted her to teach him the famous move and slip between her sheets.

Swallowing hard, Blaise pulled himself together. He schooled his face and switched on the banter. He knew he needed to see her laugh again.

“Yeah, Red. The Wronksi Feint. Where’d you learn it? Don’t tell me it was all a happy accident?” He smirked, daring himself to elbow her in the side playfully. It paid off in dividends. Her beautifully sun-kissed face heated and she stopped to face him.

“Should I prove it to you, then?” She asked, her eyes glittering dangerously. Immediately, Blaise decided that he liked the way his Slytherin Quidditch kit reflected in her eyes. He thought how good she’d look in green—surrounded by it. Maybe it’d be _his_ sheets they would be found tangled in.

“Go on, then,” he urged. Placing the tail of his broom on the ground, he stood on a peg and kicked off. “Make me jealous, little Weasel.”

Ginny flew high into the air, laughing loudly, enchanting him. It was time to perform a feint of his own.


	25. The Path Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Path Not Taken  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: Violence
> 
> AUTHOR: [crochetaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway)

“Please, I am _not_ jealous of you and Daffodil,” Ginny scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and lifting an arrogant chin. Her chest ached from the hurt she was desperately trying to hide, but she was too proud to admit that maybe she had made a mistake.

“It’s Daphne,” Blaise replied, narrowing his eyes at his former fiancé. 

“Right, well, hope you and Daisy have a lovely night,” Ginny replied, sarcasm heavy in her voice and she pushed past him, but he grasped her arm, right above her elbow, holding her tight.

“I miss _you_ ,” he whispered just above her ear. His warm breath ignited a path from her ear, to her neck, down her body and she had to suppress a shiver. She could feel the heat of his body next to hers, the sheer warmth of him was something she had always loved. 

“You should have thought of that before,” Ginny spat, yanking her arm free and stalking past him. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her go, burning a hole into her back, but she ignored it. Just like she ignored the ache of hurt feelings and the fiery heat of jealousy as she watched Dahlia move away from the bar and toward Blaise. Her eyes surveyed Ginny as she passed her, a deep smirk blooming on her face. 

Ginny imagined fisting that blonde hair and hitting Delphinium’s head over and over again against the bar. The fantasy spun out in Ginny’s mind: Dianella’s green dress, slipping down as Ginny forced her face into the scuffed worktop over and over again. Her heels slipping as blood first dripped to the floor and then poured. The triumph Ginny would feel once Dianthus had fallen still, either passed out or dead. 

The look Blaise would give her once she was done. The pride in his eyes at her actions. The heat of lust and want. She could see it all there in her mind’s eye. It was there for the taking. Her’s for the taking.

Ginny closed her eyes, shaking her head, she didn’t want that life. She didn’t want the kind of life Blaise insisted on. She didn’t want to have to leave a wreckage of bodies and lives behind her as she moved through the world as he did. Maybe he was right and she had the instinct, the ability, but that didn’t mean she _wanted_ it. 

If that meant swallowing down her jealousy like hot, bile, then she would do it. If it meant watching as Diascia took Ginny’s place at Blaise’s side, she would watch, stoic and dry-eyed, knowing that the life he was leading Dichondra down was one Ginny _never_ wanted.


	26. The Wrong Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Wrong Color  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 450  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Mimifreed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimifreed/pseuds/Mimifreed)

The knot that tightened in Blaise’s stomach surged into his throat the moment he saw Harry Potter step forward. The high-pitched voice of Lord Voldemort still rang in his ears and fear had begun to creep in, all consuming. At seventeen, he never thought it would come to this. He had been arrogant to think the war would wait, that he could escape to Italy with his mother. However, war did not favour the neutral—and Blaise had made his decision. 

He went to take a step forward, but Pansy beat him to it. With a finger pointed at Potter she yelled, “Well someone grab him!” 

Blaise stared at Pansy in disbelief, his expression blank. Surely, she didn’t believe Potter should die—he was the Chosen One, for Merlin’s sake! Blaise tore his eyes away from her and was met with the unforgiving glare of Ginny Weasley. 

She stood with her back straight, arms folded over her chest and a scowl marring her beautiful face. There was no question in her eyes—she thought he was just as bad as the rest of them. 

Somewhere in the background, he heard Filch announce the disruption of curfew; astonished by the amount of students out of bed at this hour. 

And then came Professor McGonagall’s voice, “Take the Slytherin’s to the dungeons.”

Blaise looked around, incredulously. Every other student was given the opportunity to stay and fight, to openly declare where they stood. His heart raced as he watched his peers; a sea of red, blue, and yellow trimmed robes brandishing their wands and adorning the same fierce look.

His robes were lined with the wrong color. He wanted to prove he was more than the house he had been sorted and a handsome face. How was it that someone like Zacharias Smith, as insufferable as he was, could stand and fight without question? But, just because Blaise’s robes were green instead of yellow, he was banished with the rest of them—treated as a Death Eater.

Blaise lurched forward, shoved by another student as they followed Filch out. The chatter resumed and Blaise could hear McGonagall barking orders. He locked eyes with Ginny once more. He wasn’t a sympathizer or a Death Eater! He gave her a pleading look. If he could just prove that he was more than the green on his robes, perhaps she would give him the benefit of the doubt awarded to the other houses...

She sneered and looked away and Blaise felt a tug on his elbow, “Zabini, let’s go.”

Blaise swallowed back the bitterness he tasted on his tongue and nodded, shuffling out of the hall behind Theo.

Blaise realized he hated the color green; it didn't suit him.


	27. Unhealthy Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Unhealthy Balance  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 442  
> Warnings: None  
> AUTHOR: [RoseHarperMaxwell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHarperMaxwell/pseuds/RoseHarperMaxwell)

The problem, Blaise thinks, lies in the _imbalance._

He has no sappy daydreams of broken marriages and grand declarations. Their arrangement has been clear since the beginning, but the transparency doesn't make it any easier to endure.

He watches her on Potter's arm at the Ministry Gala, her tight smile and forced laughter impossible to miss.

He waits for the images to appear in the next day's Prophet as though they haven't been playing continuously in his mind.

He parses each second of the looping kiss, tracking the dip of Potter's hand over her arse. Glaring at the near-imperceptible press of fingertips. 

Maybe it's normal for a husband to caress his wife like that, in public. But Blaise sees green nonetheless, a bilious haze of envy clouding his sensibility.

* * *

When Draco mentions an imminent mission, Blaise can breathe. The monster inside is soothed; chuffed, even. It knows when Draco goes away, Potter does too. And when that happens—

“Blaise?” her voice carries over the dying sputters of the Floo. “Are you in here?”

She rounds the corner and her shirt hits the floor before he can rise from the sofa.

“Thank fuck,” she says, climbing into his lap. “I thought they’d never get called out again.”

The monster is appeased. But it's only a matter of time, Blaise knows, before something so skewed will cease to bring him pleasure.

* * *

It would be easy to pretend that he hadn't sketched out every detail.

 _The timing:_ standing after-hours Auror pub night.  
_The setting:_ his sofa, seated in the same spot he always occupies when Ginny comes calling.  
_The cast:_ a fit redhead, perhaps a bit younger than the one who consumes him, but a passable double.

He nearly allows his face to depict something boring and cliché— _alarm, shame, remorse_ —as Ginny's wide eyes meet his, over the shoulder of her understudy. The emotions are already swimming beneath the surface.

But he needs her to _feel_ it. So he sticks to the script: a cocked brow, unbroken eye contact, cool indifference. His performance elicits the intended reaction. Ginny’s transformed features mirror what Blaise feels every time he watches Potter lay a proprietary finger on her.

The raw bitterness in her eyes is more satisfying than he expected.

* * *

It makes things easier, Blaise tells himself. Restoring some balance makes certain things tolerable.

Like clapping Potter on the back at the Longbottom-Granger engagement party, and pressing a chivalrous kiss to the back of his wife’s hand.

Like beckoning her over to his sofa on the next Auror pub night, her last appearance in his flat tacitly ignored.

Like falling asleep alone, knowing she was in someone else's arms.


	28. Wisps of Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Wisps of Envy  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 448  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Caitlincheri28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitlincheri28/pseuds/Caitlincheri28)

Blaise Zabini stared across the crumbling Great Hall, watching as flashes of colored light accompanied the fierce screams of rage and fear. An orchestrational production of light vs dark building up towards the final crescendo.

He positioned himself behind a broken pillar, hoping that the miniscule amount of courage he possessed was hiding there for him to find and put to use. Smoky wisps curled around his feet as he took a deep breath in preparation.

He peered around the pillar, taking in his surroundings and searching for any spot of weakness in which to insert himself. He watched as his friends, schoolmates, and teachers bravely battled giant creatures of the dark and evil wizards in skeletal masks.

The sound of an explosion pulled his attention to his left, and through the haze of smoke and dust, he saw her.

Ginevra Weasley rose to her feet like a phoenix reborn. Flames erupted behind her as her hair whipped across her face. She was the goddess Athena incarnate — a master warrior searching for her next attack, her eyes radiating pure determination and power.

He would keep digging for the courage — the courage she believed he possessed. Over the past year, they had shared many nights of tears and conversations of their innermost hopes and dreams. And Blaise discovered he was worth something — worth something to her.

He wouldn’t stop searching for his courage until he overturned every obstacle that lay on the path inside his heart. She deserved that much from him.

Suddenly, the Great Hall went quiet for a moment before erupting into a chorus of cheers and celebration.

_He had done it. Potter had actually killed The Dark Lord._

He shoved his way through the joyous commotion, searching for his beautiful warrior goddess. He would find her and they would _finally_ profess their love and…

Time slowed to a creeping halt.

There she was — her hair dancing behind her as she ran, with a smile so bright it could blind Merlin himself. She ran right into the outstretched arms of Harry Potter.

Potter spun her around as she sang out a melody of the purest laughter before kissing him with heated passion.

Passion that he thought would be for _him._

The flame that had erupted in his heart and burned with uncontainable fervor was now suffocated and choked — leaving nothing but twisting green tendrils of smoke which poisoned his very soul with jealousy.

He watched as Ginny stared lovingly into the emerald green eyes of Harry Potter.

The same shade of green that echoed the unforgivable spell that had just been cast on Blaise Zabini’s heart.


	29. Years, really.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Years, really.  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 449  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [LuxLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxLouise/pseuds/LuxLouise)

The dark green dress was cut dangerously low in the back, open for all to see until just above her arse. His eyes travelled down her back, following the golden mithril serpent that was winding its way down her spine. Her rich red hair was pulled over her right shoulder.

They had been dancing around one another for months, years really. When their friend groups had merged after the war due to Pansy marrying the Weasel. She wasn’t around much in the beginning. The star chaser for the Holyhead Harpies kept her away for most of the year. The few times she had returned home and they had been around one another, they would trade teasing insults, loaded questions, and lingering glances across the green haze in smoke-filled bars. 

Blaise had never felt her lips pressed against his, never ran his hands over her soft flesh. He had never so much as shook her hand. He lived for the moments when they were in a crowded room and they would be pushed up against one another, the feel of her breasts against his chest, her small hand clenching his forearm tightly, when their fingers would entangle just for a moment, pulling away with his hand burning.

He watched as she threw her head back, laughing at something Theo was saying. He caught his best mates eye, the man cocked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head just slightly towards Ginny Weasley. Blaise tossed back the drink he had been gripping tightly, placed it on the bar behind him and strode across the crowded floor of the Ministry Christmas gala until he was right next to her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Could I speak with you privately for a moment?” And then he turned and walked away towards the lifts in the atrium. Blaise couldn’t bear to look behind him to see if she followed. He turned the corner and just as he began to turn around, small hands grasped the front of his robes and pushed him farther into the darkness.

A hand wrapped around the back of his neck, gripping him tightly. The other was still holding onto his robes as though he might pull away. Without thinking, Blaise had his lips on her and wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. He grinned against her mouth when he heard her tight dress rip as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Kissing her felt like all was right with the world, the jealous that he felt whenever another man would speak to her was gone.

“Took you long enough,” Ginny said as she pulled back, a grin on her face.


End file.
